Of Home and Marauders
by anonymouslypersonal
Summary: Short drabbles about the Harry Potter fandom that I couldn't get out of my head. Encompasses both the Marauders' Era and the Golden Trio, but focuses on the lives of the Marauders and what their future looked like. Includes AU themes. Ch. 3 - "And so that day Neville Longbottom became a different kind of Boy-Who-Lived."
1. Of Hope and Doubt

Before the night that changed his life, he had been content. Happy, in fact. No cares in the world. But that life was _before_, before everything turned upside down and twisted and warped and, and-dark.

Because the night ruled his life now.

Yes. He had been happy before, full of the naïve arrogance that turned so many children reckless. But he was a little older now, and both his mind and body were marred with scars, and the only things he felt were despair and confusion and loss.

That was until he saw the letter that arrived on his eleventh birthday. He read the signature of his future Deputy Headmistress and he felt something that he hadn't felt for a long, long time.

Remus Lupin was going to Hogwarts, and maybe, just maybe, Remus Lupin could change.

Because-yes, the night ruled his life now, and _yes, he_ _**knew**_, he was still a monster, but now, maybe the presence of magic could light up the night someday.

But then-he looked up, into the night sky, heavy with the beautiful, pale, _sickening _moon. And then Remus Lupin, the lost child, the shapeshifter, the _beast_- knew no more.


	2. Of Lunch and Future Children

**Disclaimer: **Nope. Not mine. I wish it was.

**Setting: **Lunchtime in the Great Hall. The Marauders as they begin to eat and make fun of James. Fun, lighthearted goodness.

"James, have you finished the Transfiguration essay?" asked Peter as the boys sat down to eat. "D'you think I could have a look at yours? I swear the bloody old hag has it in for me, always marks my papers with Trolls."

"Honestly Wormtail, how can you need help with the assignment?" said Sirius impatiently. "It's about Animagus transformations. _You're _an _Animagus, _if you haven't noticed."

"Keep it down, Padfoot," urged Remus. "People might hear you."

"Ahh, let them," retorted Sirius. "Nobody'd dare snitch on us, they'd know we'd prank their lives out."

James interrupted the argument. "Shut it, Padfoot, Moony's getting his knickers in a twist. Sure, Wormtail, I'll let you have a look after Defense. Speaking of Defense, did you see Evans' Patronus today? It looked like it might be a deer or something-maybe it's a stag?"

"Don't get your hopes up, Prongs," snickered Sirius.

Remus and Peter laughed.

"What?" James asked. "Why is that funny?"

"You're just so whipped, that's why," sniggered Peter. "Even though she hates you."

"What? She doesn't hate me! Nobody hates James Potter!" said James, trying to look dashing but failing completely.

"Maybe it's not hate, Prongs," said Remus gently. Or-he tried to. He was laughing too much to be really assuring, however.

"Yeah," jumped in Sirius. "You're not last on her list of possible kissees at all, actually."

"Really? You think so?" asked James, trying not to look too hopeful.

"Of course I am," he replied, pretending to look affronted. "I mean, Evans would pick you to kiss over Slughorn, wouldn't she?"

"Actually, no," interjected Remus. "I saw her peck his cheek after the Slug Club party last night out of gratitude."

Sirius and Peter sniggered at the look on James' face.

"You'll have no chance with her at this rate, mate," snickered Peter.

"Yes, I will! I have a very good chance, actually," protested James. "I even caught Evans looking at me yesterday by the lake."

"Oh yes," deadpanned Sirius. "You two will marry and have dozens of messy, black-haired children."

"Don't forget the green eyes," added Remus. "Although, as James' son, he'd probably be horrible with women."

"Oi, mate!" protested James yet again. "I'll have you know that my son will be _very _good with women! He'll probably even fall for a redhead, just you watch. Then you'll see that he has good taste."

"No, no, no," said an interested Peter. "He'd probably scare them away by inheriting Lily's temper."

"And-what? The kid would have a hero complex like Prongs here, too? You're pushing it, Wormtail!" said Sirius.

"Maybe he'll be good at Defense," mused Remus. "I'd like to teach James' son someday."

"Nah, I think I'll stick to teaching little James II how to prank people and do illegal stuff in Hogwarts," grinned Sirius. "I'll leave the serious-mind the pun- stuff to you, Moony."

"I think he'd be good at Potions too, if he's anything like Evans," said James, warming to the conversation. "I mean, he could only really fail if someone like Snivellus was teaching him."

"Snivellus-teach?" scoffed Sirius. "That's about as likely as rooms in the castle that we haven't found, don't you think?"

"Back to the point," said Remus. "I think James' son will be a very good man."

"He'll be a Marauder, mark my words," said Sirius. "Probably'll find secrets of Hogwarts we've never even thought about!"

"He'll be good at Quidditch, too," added James. "Maybe not Chaser, since I've already done that, but maybe Seeker."

"He'll be brilliant," said Peter loyally. "And he'll be a leader, just like you, James."

"Who's going to be just like Potter?" a voice asked suddenly, and as the boys turned around, they noticed Lily Evans and her friends standing behind them.

"Nobody, Evans," James said hastily.

"Just your future child," coughed Sirius.

"_What did you say?_" shrieked Lily.

"Nothing, nothing," said Remus. "Come on, you three, let's head to class."

As the Marauders headed out the door of the Great Hall, Lily Evans sat down with her head in her hands.


	3. Of Yellow and Red in Love

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine.

* * *

><p>Alice Macmillan came from a long line of Hufflepuffs, so it came as no one's surprise when she was Sorted into it. What <em>did<em> come as a surprise, however, was the fact that she spent nearly two minutes arguing with the Sorting Hat before flouncing off to the Badger House. Arguing with the Hat wasn't necessarily uncommon—after all, just two years earlier a now infamous Sirius Black had nearly bullied the Hat into Sorting him into Gryffindor—but oddly enough, Alice Macmillan and the Hat hadn't fought over her Sorting, but rather about the Hat's _image_. The eleven-year-old had rather bluntly told the Hat that no one enjoyed placing a moldy-looking accessory on his or her head, and shouldn't a famed Hogwarts artifact represent the very best of the school? Of course, the Hat (now referred to as Godhat) took great offense that a puny little firstie could even think to tell Godric's own hat what to do, to which Alice logically pointed out should therefore be reason enough to preserve a dignified image. Godhat finally refused to listen to reason and shuffled her off to Hufflepuff before his hat flaps dropped off with the girl's nagging.

And so Alice's entry into her House was a bit more rambunctious than most. Her cheek drew the attention of the Marauder's, who were always glad to welcome another joker into their midst; to their delight, Alice proved to be every bit as interesting as a Hatstall should be. Alice therefore developed, truth be told, a bit of a reputation. Her flyaway yellow hair only another reminder of her inability to keep still, Alice befriended anyone and everyone like a particularly busy hummingbird, buzzing around the hallways of Hogwarts in a whirl of laughter and cheery jokes. Girls found in Alice a comforting older figure, while lads liked that she was always up for a rough-and-tumble game of Quidditch. Alice was a naturally happy person and her joy with the world was evident to anyone who could see the flushed red of her round cheeks or her never-still hand movements. People came to Hogwarts to learn magic spells, but Alice's presence reminded others that there was perhaps a type of magic in human interaction as well.

That was why at first people sometimes didn't believe that Alice's very best friend was Frank Longbottom, a quiet, muted boy in Gryffindor. While Alice was bright yellows and flashing blues and rainbow clothes, Frank was mellow blacks and calm browns and straight robes. But after a while, instead of stunned disbelief, reactions flowed to frankandalice or aliceandfrank. It made sense to see a laughing Alice accompanied by a smiling Frank, and to hear the warm baritone of Frank answering the loud question of Alice.

Of course, because they didn't make sense, it only made sense that they fell in love. Alice still remembers the moment when they were walking along the Quidditch Pitch in winter, when snow was drifting down in white puffs and the grass became blanketed in untouched, glistening white. They should have been inside, keeping warm near crackling logs, but Alice loved the cold and Frank loved making Alice happy. She had stuck out her tongue to taste the ice and laughed, turning to Frank.

"Sometimes I think that I would've been a perfect boy; I'm always doing silly things that Augusta says aren't fit for ladies." She was of course, referring to the austere Augusta Longbottom, Frank's mother and epitome of etiquette.

But then Frank had turned to her, his dark head nestled with snow and face falling into seriousness. "I think you're a perfect _girl_," he said, and a strong-willed badger fell in love with a shy lion that day.

They married in October, when the leaves outside withered but their love grew as the winter nights grew longer and Alice's belly filled with more than just happiness. They had their baby in July, as both sun and parents blazed with pride. Upon his head, aliceandfrank hoped their son would be as strong as his mother and as loving as his father; they wished for strength of heart and warmth of mind, and knew that their son would do them well for every day of his life. And so that day Neville Longbottom became a different kind of Boy-Who-Lived.


End file.
